


Trick AND Treat

by KatherineKrawl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff and Crack, Halloween, Hannibal is in love, M/M, Nasty crime scene details, Oral Sex, The science team ships it, Trick or Treating, Will is hard to impress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 07:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21240716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineKrawl/pseuds/KatherineKrawl
Summary: “A scary story?” Will scoffed, disbelief and mirth lacing through the sweet sound of his voice as his lips widened into a rare smile.“You want to tell me a scary story, Hannibal?”**It's almost Halloween! This year, Hannibal wants to try and frighten his grumpy and socially awkward love-interest, Will Graham, with a scary story. With the help of Katz, Price and Zeller, the doctor hopes to get Will's heartbeat racing, and to have him in his arms by the end of the night.Will, however, does not scare easily.





	Trick AND Treat

“He takes them apart and sows them back together.” 

Hannibal observed with care how Will's brown curls fell before his ocean eyes as he leaned over the mangled corpse on the slab. His arms supported his weight as both hands spread out on the side of the table, and the fabric of his slacks stretched tighter over the round swell of his behind.

“The stitching...” the profiler mused, fingers hovering above the thick, messy thread that pushed the dead flesh of arm and torso together. “He's turning them into rag-dolls.”

Hannibal stepped forward, as if in need of a closer look at the dead woman his heart's desire was currently studying. He brushed himself ever so slightly against the other man's side as he came to stand next to him.

“I would say this killer does not have much knowledge of human anatomy,” Hannibal said, eying the sloppy, shallow stitch work that barely held the flesh together. His remark was completely redundant, Hannibal knew, but he was at all times overwhelmed by the desire to get those eyes, shimmering green and burning under the bright lighting, directed on him.

And he was successful, notwithstanding the mild irritation that flashed his way within the contact.

“That would be obvious,” Will murmured, and Hannibal felt a tremor in his lower abdomen at the sight of the dilating pupils quickly shifting back to the corpse.

“Mentally, he's still a child,” Will said, sighing as if exhausted by the effort of having to explain such a simple fact. “And in his mind, he is innocent.” He straightened, his eyes now crossing with Beverly Katz, standing by the refrigerators and scribbling on a notepad.

Her dark eyes met his with a sharp nod, and Hannibal felt a nagging pull beneath his jugular. He wasn't pitiful enough to mistake it for anything other than jealousy.

He lowered his eyes, hands clenching by his sides. Oh, how he had sunken low and deep these last few months, where a moody, a-social FBI profiler had whirled through his neat, well-organized life and stirred things up beyond his control .

Will gestured aimlessly to the stitched woman on the table, resembling a grotesque version of Frankenstein's monster. “What he wants is companionship. Friends,” he spoke, almost poetically, with a sorrow in his eyes that Hannibal longed to grasp and crush with his own flesh and blood. 

Again, his eyes met Will's, as he placed his own hand right beside Will's clenching fingers. “He creates his own toys, in need of someone to play with him,” Hannibal said, most delighted to feel that stern gaze turning back to him.

“So _he_ can play with _them_,” Will corrected him seamlessly, and Hannibal couldn't suppress the smile that stretched his lips. Only Will could make a fool out of him, and have Hannibal coil with pleasure from the game that heated his chest. Only Will was allowed to speak to him in such a manner and walk away unharmed. _Un-Rolodexed._

Because it was only Will he was willing to fake ignorance for, just to see those cheeks flush with his attention, or sucked in with annoyance. Hannibal found himself, for the first time in his _many_ years, utterly and hopelessly in love.

“That's sick,” Price chimed from the other side of the table, as he pinched the thread of the stitches with the pliers in his hand. “I can hardly feel sorry for the guy, knowing the thick, blunt needle he used to stitch this poor woman up.”

Beverly's fingers moved her pen across the page like she was trying to make it waltz. “Mentally challenged, isolated... strong?” she cocked an eyebrow at Will as she listed off the traits, raising her voice on the last.

But it was Jimmy who answered her with a firm nod of his head. “Strong, yes,” he agreed, as Hannibal watched Will stretch himself on his toes to get a closer look. Examining Price dismantling the stitched shoulder with the pliers and a sharp pair of scissors. “He sawed through the bones by hand.”

Will inhaled deeply and straightened himself before turning from the table. Hannibal could see his tensed shoulders through the fabric of that horrible plaid shirt and wished to reach out – sooth them with his fingers. His hands arched longingly against the stainless steel of the table.

“She was still alive...” Will breathed the words so frailly Hannibal inched forward on his toes to catch them. “She was alive when he took her apart.”

It was beautiful: Will was disgusted. Not by the killer's deed, but his own intrigue. His own thoughts and desires that crept to the surface at the sight of the torn, designed flesh. Hannibal was the only one to understand this about the man, and the knowledge warmed him like the summer sun. 

Zeller cleared his throat, checking the clipboard in his hands with tired, red-rimmed eyes that screamed of a caffeine addiction. “He drugged her,” he confirmed almost snippy. “Chloroform. She died on the table.”

Beverly nodded from her place beside the refrigerator the woman on the table would soon be stored in. “Easily accessible, with the effects lasting long enough for him to bring her home and tie her up.” Her eyes flashed down to her notepad, before she sighed. “She bled out within minutes after the amputation of the right arm.”

Clinically all true, yet Will turned himself back around with a heated expression on his face and fingers tightened against his palms - a dramatic gesture Hannibal could appreciate.

“But he wants them to live,” he bit, eying them with distaste. They didn't understand. Will wanted them to understand. “He will keep trying until one does.”

Undisturbed, Price kept picking apart the black thread of the stitches. “They won't,” he said, a sour eye on the ripped body on the slab. “Not if he keeps playing _whac-a-mole_ with a rusty saw like this.”

In that moment, Will's eyes met Hannibal's for one quick but searching look, before the man rubbed tired hands over his face. “Right,” he said, defeated and hollow as Hannibal watched him reach for his messenger bag – painful longing and selfish need thudding inside him like a heavy heartbeat.

“I'm late for class,” the man announced, swinging the leather bag over his shoulder as he pulled the blue gloves off his hands with a cracking snap and tossed them in the bin. “I'll be back tomorrow.”

Still feeling his toes tingling inside his Italian shoes from their brief flash of eye contact, Hannibal watched the man pluck his coat off the hanger and head to the glass door to push it open. Beyond his own control, he reached, and fingers touched the pale skin of the inside of Will's wrist.

Ocean eyes burned as Will turned his head to look at him. His lips parted and his eyes wide as a jolt ran beneath the skin under Hannibal's touch. The seconds that passed were one too long before Hannibal found his voice to say: “If you let me know when you'll be here, I'll stop by as well.” 

There was a moment of nothing but their beating hearts in the silent room. Even the plucking pliers had stopped in their mission to unwind.

Just about when Hannibal was willing to curse himself for this horribly transparent move, Will swallowed thickly and breathed oxygen back into his lungs. “Yeah,” he spoke, somewhat hoarsely. “Yeah, that's fine.”

His fingers fell from the bare skin of the bony wrist, before Will Graham graced them all with a short wave of his hand, and disappeared.

The long breath Hannibal released originated from deep within his lungs. Beverly was the first to speak.

“Will Graham...?”she hummed, rolling out the syllables as she crossed her arms, tucking the notepad under her pit. “You picked a stubborn fish to throw your hook at, Doctor.”

Turning, Hannibal watched three pairs of eyes studying him with open interest and he was quick to straighten himself, trying to redeem his posture in front of his audience. Shame was not an emotion he was familiar with, nor did he feel it now. But he usually carried himself with effortless grace; something Will Graham had tousled around within him. The feeling was... unusual.

He sighed only, neither confirming nor denying her suspicions, as he pushed his hands into his pockets, and stared sightless at the corpse on the table.

“Oh yes,” Price added his two cents, as Hannibal noticed he had moved his pliers to the woman's hip, pulling thread from thick, pale blue flesh. “That boy lives in a gold fishbowl,” he warned with sparkling hazel eyes. “You're gonna have to break through thick glass to get to that piece of... _work_.”

A close save. Hannibal perched his lips as he let his eyes wander aimlessly through the room and rolled on the balls of his restless feet. “Perhaps.”

It wasn't Will's _work_ that he was after. Not primarily. Not _just_. What he needed, was Will's attention. His willingness to move his way. It was the everlasting _caution_ Hannibal needed to break.

“You could always buy him a puppy,” Zeller sneered lightly from across the room, before Jimmy turned his head to his colleague. 

“Another dog?” he scoffed. “You can barely see the color of his shirts beneath all that hair as it is.”

Hannibal's lips stayed pursed as Brian Zeller put down his clipboard, crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall with a scrutinizing expression. “I once bought a girl a cat,” he said, eyes glossy with memories. “She liked the cat better. That's a risk.”

Hannibal kept his hands in his pockets, as his fingers curled deeper into the silk lining. Having Will's colleagues witness his infatuation with Will was one thing, but having them _help_ him with the conquest...

Beverly finally put down the pen and notepad as she pushed a pointed glare at her oblivious coworker. “Will doesn't buy his pets,” she sneered lightly at Zeller. “They find _him_.”

Her eyes then found Hannibal with open question in the depths of the squinting stare, before Hannibal lowered his gaze from the curiosity that burned unapologetically in her features. 

Beverly was Will's friend, and Hannibal had seen the smirks, the quirks of her eyebrows, whenever he was caught staring too long at the softness of Will's curls or the curve of his lashes. Will liked her, and as much as that wrung Hannibal's insides with a childish squeeze of fury, it was important to stay on the woman's good side.

Perhaps, after all this fruitless time, _help_ was what he needed.

Jimmy stood, stitches forgotten and pliers on the table. “Will's got that savior complex,” he waved both hands loosely on their joints. “Maybe, for once, _he_ would like to be the one to be saved.” 

He then pointed his hazel eyes at Hannibal with such sudden ferocity and purpose, Hannibal half-expected the man to whip out a cape for him to wear.

Instead, Zeller sighed, still swimming in melancholy as he leaned against the wall. “I invited one of my dates over to see _The Exorcist_ once,” he breathed a smile at the images that undoubtedly flashed within his mind. “She was so scared, she spent the entire night in my arms.” A bragging little grin showed his teeth behind thin lips. “Naturally, one thing led to another.”

At once, a vision of a trembling Will curled up on his lap and in need of soothing strokes and kisses filled the Ripper's mind. Yes. Of course. A frightful evening could lead to Will's warm body cowering in his embrace.

“It is true that scary situations help to break the physical contact barrier,” Beverly nodded thoughtfully, as if rolling the taste of the words in her mouth.

“Her name was Stacey,” Zeller sighed from the other end of the room. 

Beverly's words rang clear with possibility, and Hannibal crossed his arms over his long, wool coat as he contemplated the spark of excitement within him, dripping with opportunity. “Fear does bring out a certain... vulnerability.”

Zeller ignored Jimmy's unimpressed, distasteful glares, as he stared longingly at the ceiling. “Stacey Greendale.”

Beverly tilted her head, one finger pressing against her lip. ”The physiological and neurological response to being frightened is very similar to feeling aroused,” she stated, crossing eyes with Hannibal. “And it's almost Halloween.”

She smirked when Hannibal's eyes widened at the ideas that started to brew hot and bubbling inside his core. Ideas that left him feeling hot in every limb. “Perhaps this opens a window of opportunity,” he agreed carefully, suppressing the urge to storm out of the lab and puzzle together a plan that... lacked a healthy dose of humanity.

Beverly pressed the corners of her lips down in consideration as she voiced his thoughts to perfection; “Will Graham does not scare easily.”

Hannibal smiled at the dark eyes sparkling mischievously when she packed her offer in a statement: “You're going to need some help.” 

And he did. He was willing to risk everything. Because after all this pining and fruitless, even clumsy attempts to get the man's attention, Hannibal could use directions to get him a foot in with the only person that had ever held his heart, and refused to squeeze it.

“Perhaps I do,” he agreed.

**

Students parted around him as he walked into the emptying auditorium. He caught sight of Will, standing with his back towards him as he leaned over the desk, packing papers into his bag and looking disheveled with hair and glasses crooked on his head.

The opportunity for a quick glance up the length of his body was irresistible and not wasted, as Hannibal could feel his own need to touch and hold and devour pulling at him most physically. Patient pain.

“Will,” he greeted him as he stepped around the desk and watched bewildered eyes looking up at him over dark-rimmed drooping glasses. Instantly, his chest drew tight, and his thighs tensed beneath the fabric of his slacks.

_I think you two would be good together_, Beverly had offered with a stern nod of her head. _But if you hurt him, I will lock you in one of these refrigerators, understood?_

“Hannibal,” the man said, confusion a vague flash over his weary features. “I'm just finishing up.”

_Why are you here? What do you want?_, were the unspoken questions, thick between the lines and the creases of Will's eyebrows. The man was a mess. A moody, tired, overstimulated mess, and Hannibal would like nothing more than to sweep him up in his arms, bring him home, feed him and sooth away the stressful day of tattering, needy and ignorant students, until Will's skin was a flushed pink, and his eyes were bright and shining with life.

Soon, he hoped to do all of it. 

Hannibal placed his hand beside Will's on the table as he pushed a warm, inviting smile on his face. “I would like to invite you over for dinner,” he said, smoothing over the words in one exhale as he tried to gauge the way Will's muscles shifted within his expressive features.

A hint of a frown, parting lips, eyes wide and darkening. Surprise, irritation, but no traces of disgust. “Oh,” Will spoke wearily, after a moment's hesitation. His hands paused on the paper, and his eyes were deeply on Hannibal as he breathed aimless words:

“Well, I...”

The silence that followed made both their necks flush with discomfort, before Hannibal burst through the painful reservation. He could only take so much more before he would start to shamelessly beg.

“Coming Thursday, it is... well, it's Halloween,” he started carefully. “And I... well, I always hand out my homemade candy corn fudge to the trick-or-treaters in the neighborhood.” 

Lord. Normally, people would jump on a dinner invitation from his end, and the need to have to explain his motivations to Will made him restless, clumsy, a stuttering, hormonal mess – certainly a first. Hannibal tried his best to keep his jaw locked as he smiled kindly into the depths of Will's endless eyes that he desperately wished to lunge himself at – to disappear beneath the blue-gray waves for all eternity. 

“I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner, help me hand out candy and...” Hannibal lowered his eyes to their hands, nearly touching on the teacher's desk, “stay for a drink.” 

Trying to keep his voice gentle, light, and not in any way needy or overbearing, he looked back into Will's unblinking eyes with a well-placed smile and added: “...perhaps a scary story?”

Stunned, unblinking eyes of blue and more silence. The buzz of a monitor was the only thing to keep the air from becoming deafening. And then, thank heavens and hells, Will released an airy chuckle from his nose. “A scary story?” he scoffed, disbelief and mirth lacing through the sweet sound of his voice as his lips widened into a rare smile. “You want to tell me a scary story, Hannibal?”

Hannibal allowed himself to mirror that chuckle with one of his own, feeling his stomach flutter with hope. “Isn't that how people celebrate _All Hallows' eve_?” he teased, and watched Will fold his arms before his chest with a shy smile, shrugging his shoulders up.

“I haven't celebrated Halloween in ages,” the man confessed bashfully. “I never get trick-or-treaters in Wolftrap.”

Hannibal was well aware of the reasons why Will had made the lonesome woods his home: endless, serene solitude. Nevertheless, he hoped to lure the man away from his wilderness for a night, and if he succeeded, Hannibal would follow him wherever he wished to go. 

He nodded before settling his hand on Will's forearm with, what he hoped to be, an enticing glint in his eyes: “All the more reason to celebrate it this year.”

Hannibal had always known with absolute certainty that his flirtatious smiles and seductive eyes were guaranteed to reel in anyone he chose to have, and maybe even some others who were in the line of fire. Will, however, was able to make him doubt everything he had been sure to know about himself.

He was without control, and Hannibal had never felt more alive.

Will's eyes fell to Hannibal's hand on his arm, before he brought them back up to meet Hannibal in full. The unreadable expression that swam there between the sharks made Hannibal's breath hitch in his chest.

“Sure,” Will spoke at last, eyes shifting back and forth between Hannibal's eyes, and the fingers covering his sleeve.  
“Sounds good.”

**

When the doorbell rang, Hannibal was as ready as he would ever be. He had been standing in the hallway for nearly fifteen minutes, repeatedly checking his appearance in the mirror, the cellphone in his pocket and the watch on his wrist as he paced the tiles with his polished shoes.

_He was here._

“Right on time,” he greeted Will cheerfully as he opened the door, and took in the sight before him with blinking eyes. Curls slicked back, dark slacks, a black button-up with two buttons from the top casually undone. A smooth, pale throat was revealed as Will stepped inside and unwrapped his plaid, red and beige scarf from his neck.

“Don't sound surprised,” Will scoffed good-heartedly as he allowed Hannibal to take his coat, and offered him a terribly chosen bottle of wine.

“You're never late,” Hannibal agreed pleasantly, as he hung op Will's coat, allowing the fabric to release the scent of the man's skin and aftershave that he greedily but subtly inhaled. “...but you sometimes have the tendency to forgo showing up altogether.” 

How painful those nights at the office had been. How troublesome and lonely.

Will was smiling at him when he turned. Cheeks pink when he opened his arms by his side and said:

“I showed.”

Their eyes met, cautious pleasure exchanged between them in a single look, and Hannibal felt the fresh spark of hope combust behind his ribs. Will had showed.

“I'm most delighted,” he said with a pleasant sincerity as he led them into the kitchen. His earlier telephone call with Beverly Katz had given the evening a clear outline: wine him, dine him, entertain him, liquor him..._frighten him_ and save him. Share the experience of a scary event, and resolve the tension with intimacy. An embrace, a kiss even. If he could manage that, the next step would be limited only by Will's respected barriers.

A date, a holiday, a wedding... whichever.

Beverly currently remained on speed dial on the phone in his pocket. 

“Something smells sweet,” Will hummed approvingly as he leaned over the counter and looked at the full trays of cooling fudge.

Layered orange, yellow and white, the concoction of sugar, butter and heated milk resembled a beautifully rich, creamy and smooth slice of candy corn.

“They still need to be cut into triangles before we can hand them out to trick-or-treaters,” Hannibal said, peeking over Will's shoulder and feeling their body heat paw at each other like curious kittens. The pulse in his loins flared, and he closed his eyes to gather strength before he dared to speak again: “Would you like to help me with that as I finish our dinner?”

Will looked back over his shoulder, their noses only inches apart as his eyes shimmered and his lips twitched. “Sure,” he smiled coyly, voice cracking around the edges. “If I'm allowed a taste.”

The moment lasted longer than socially acceptable, but Hannibal couldn't help lowering his eyes to those plush, pink lips surrounded by everlasting scruff. A kiss from Will's lips would be heavenly soft, but it would leave his cheeks burning with the chafe of those rough stubbles. Perfection.

“You're allowed anything you want,” Hannibal heard himself whisper, but quickly stepped back when a flush took Will's pretty face. Making him uncomfortable would be a mistake. 

A good hunter never frightened off the animal. A fisherman wouldn't use undesired bait.

He handed Will a knife, blade pressed into his own palm as he presented the man with the handle. It was all planned; Beverly had pointed out the proven knowledge that asking another person for small favors would establish a connection between them quicker.

Hannibal had asked her about the source of this information. Netflix.

Nevertheless...

“God,” Will released a surprised moan of appreciation when he popped a piece of fudge into his mouth, and allowed the candy to melt on his tongue. Hannibal swallowed against his suddenly dry throat.

“Anything I want, you say?” Will huffed, taking another greedy bite. “If I'd take that to heart, you would be out of fudge before any kids came to the door.” He held his hand under his chin to catch the crumbs as he smiled at Hannibal with sugar coating those lips a glossy pink.

Hannibal beamed with pride that he couldn't push back down, as he turned to the stove and switched on the oven with fingers that tittered with exhilaration.

“Anything at all,” he hummed beneath his breath.

**

“So what did you think of this Rag-doll killer?” Will asked as he tucked into the pastry of his perfectly cooked pie. Their eyes met over burning candles and orange flowers. “I know exactly the type of man we are looking for,” he sighed, sticking his fork into the crispy dough, “but I'm still clueless on how to find him.”

The determination that burned inside the profiler was admirable, yet Hannibal had to force himself not to rise his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. A beautiful dinner, candlelight, wine. An opportunity for longing glances, intimate conversation. And Will wanted to discuss work.

The irony notwithstanding, what good would it do to just outright tell the unaware love of his life, his universe, that he had already succeeded in finding the infamous 'Rag-doll killer', and that he was chewing on his kidney in this very moment.

“In what way will he stand out in the crowd, you'd say?” Hannibal humored his guests with a question as he bit the meat off his fork. “Would you recognize him, should you find him right under your nose?”

He hid his smile when Will chewed and frowned, pondering. Never mind the topic, Hannibal did enjoy these double entendres.

“It's hard to say,” Will said, as he chewed the silky soft flesh. “He would probably carry himself like a shy, overgrown child.” A sip of wine washed away the lingering blood on those pink lips. “And he probably has a large collection of toys...”

A quick look was exchanged between them, as Will swallowed his wine and cocked an eyebrow with a meaningful, bashful flash of eyes, “...the kids' variety.”

“Of course,” Hannibal was quick to agree, offering Will more wine in his emptying glass to take away the flinch of discomfort. One thing that had drawn him to the profiler had been his sharp eye, his intelligent intuition, and of course the oceans of empathy that shimmered behind those troubled eyes.

Yes, Danny Barnes had indeed been a child at heart. A tortured, lost soul with a severe case of alexithymia. Hannibal had known Danny's disturbed mother as one of his patients, who had breastfed the boy well into adulthood and talked about her mentally handicapped son like he was still an infant, rather than a grown man. About a year prior, she had disappeared from his practice altogether.

Locating the large man had been an easy task. Still resident in his mother's old house, where her stitched remains lay wasting in the basement amongst many, many others.

Killing the thirty-something killer had been a pathetically easy task. The method was fair - Hannibal had given him the same treatment as his victims by amputating limbs, stitching them back on and watching him bleed out on the table. Dull, but all the more satisfying today now that he could watch Will Graham blossom in front of him with every bite. 

“The people he preys on...” Will sighed into a bite, as Hannibal watched those wheels turn beyond those darkened eyes “nothing seems to connect them.” He chewed his food, gesturing with his fork. “No location, no gender, no age.”

Hannibal nodded politely and he kept his expression smooth and patient as he sipped his own, perfectly selected wine. Repressing the urge to blurt out the answer to his sweet and striving date.

_Gullible. The answer was as dull as the murderer had been. They had all just been gullible. _

“It all seems quite complex,” Hannibal said, as he placed his cutlery on the side of his plate. “Perhaps you should entertain the possibility that you will never find him.”

Will grumbled into his food with a frown so low, it pulled down his ears and hair. “That would be most unfulfilling,” he complained, teeth grazing the stem of his fork, before the throaty noise turned into an appreciative hum; “Unlike this kidney pie. Hannibal, this is divine.”

And as satisfyingly ironic that statement was, Hannibal could only feel himself flush with the praise and the arousal that pinched him when those pleasure noises tickled his spine.

“Thank you, Will.”

**

“Let's get settled before the storm,” Hannibal said, as he placed a big tray of neatly cut fudge triangles on the table beside the door. The pile was enormous, and Hannibal could see Will eying the candy with nothing short of lust as he lit the candle in the windowsill. 

Never before had Hannibal desired to be made of sugar, butter and heated milk.

“You're expecting this many?” Will asked with awe, and Hannibal felt himself straighten his back as he nodded.

“Every year,” he confirmed with pleasure. “The whole neighborhood drops by for a sugar-fill.”

Will chuckled as he gave Hannibal one of those crooked smiles that always pulled at his heartstrings. “It's more than that,” he said, pointing at the orange, yellow and white fudge on the tray. “This stuff is exceptional.”

They faced each other before the closed front door, and Hannibal licked his lips as they stretched over his teeth. Will's eyes shone warmly in the light and Hannibal couldn't resist stepping closer, and giving his voice the seductive stroke of flirtation that had brought many a victim willingly to their knees.

“I would give you the recipe,” he said, eyes starting on Will's shoes as he ran them slowly all the way back up to those widening, ocean eyes, “but... I'd rather you come back for it.”

Will was no victim. If this was all it took, there would have been no need for Hannibal to have constructed this plan with the simpletons of the science department. Will's cheeks only darkened ever so slightly as his lips opened in a smile that showed that perfect row of white teeth. “Is that so?” he challenged coyly, and Hannibal felt his heartbeat stutter.

“Absolutely, yes,” he breathed, and dared to touch the tips of Will's shoes with his.

“Next year?” Will asked him playfully – his voice carried on an exhaled breath as he cocked an eyebrow at the Doctor. Oh no, Hannibal was under no illusion he could work any control over this magnificent creature. It was one of the many reasons he had lost himself to the man before him.

“I was hoping to have you as a guest in my house again rather sooner,” Hannibal confessed, taking a chance by openly flirting, as he placed his hand on Will's elbow. Squeezing gently, working up the courage to pull him in.

_DING DING_

The sound of the doorbell startled them both as they pulled apart with flustered, blinking eyes and gritting teeth. Not for the first time, Hannibal cursed the neighborhood children.

“Here it goes,” Will croaked airily through the thick tension, before he hurried to the front door to swing it wide open, revealing shrill voices of singing and shouting children that echoed through the hall.

“Trick or treat!”

Ghosts, witches, werewolves and princesses passed through the front yard, with Will complimenting each child on their costumes as Hannibal filled their little bags with candy.

Candy, and a hint of human remains. It was Halloween, after all.

“Thank you, Doctor Lecter. Thank you, sir,” sounded from the throats of children and adults alike. Parents, even childless neighbors came by to get a taste of Hannibal's famous fudge. Something that earned Hannibal impressed glances and smiles from Will, as he talked and laughed with the children – naturally drawn to the smaller, weaker kind of any species. 

Hannibal watched those smiling eyes, as his world blurred around the edges. Will at the center, as the rest of the universe just faded to a muted, numbed fog.

“I love this stuff,” one of the mother's screeched too loudly in his ear, roughly pulling Hannibal from his dazed trance of brown curls and flushed, scruffy cheeks. “Thank you, Doctor.”

The pile of fudge shrunk as people came and went. 

“I've been thinking about this all year,” kids sighed happily.

“I was hoping you were willing to sell...” mothers probed.

“You're always so kind to do this for the children, Hannibal,” Adults praised, as they loaded up on the candy, eyes like hawks and hands like shovels.

By the end of the evening the tray was empty, Hannibal's ego was pumped and Will was smiling at the children with an openness he rarely showed adults. The sight of it was most rewarding.

“Thank you, Hanniba,” a child dressed in a dog suit accepted the last piece of fudge in her outstretched paws as she gave him a wide smile that missed both her front teeth. Little Clarice from the house on the corner.

She beamed at him before she turned her head to Will. “And thank you, Hannibal's boyfriend.”

Hannibal almost choked on his own saliva, but managed to save face by clearing his throat and patting her awkwardly on her Labrador snout before she sprinted away into the darkness. Will's feet shuffled on the porch, and their eyes didn't dare to meet as they stepped inside, and closed the heavy door.

**

With a stream of air, Hannibal blew out the candle on the windowsill.

“That's that,” he sighed, as he picked up the empty tray, void even of the tiniest crumbs, and smiled at a bright-eyed Will Graham. “Whiskey or wine?”

Will had enjoyed himself, that much had been evident. He was wined, dined, entertained and impressed. So far, everything was going rather smoothly.

“Whiskey,” the man chimed, as he settled in one of the lounge chairs in the hall. Two glasses with three fingers thudded on the side table as Hannibal sat in the chair opposite his guest.

“So,” Will said, taking a sip of his drink and offering a gentle smirk over the rim of his glass, “is this the time for scary stories?”

Hannibal allowed the thick liquid to smooth his throat before he replied with a casual “If you like.”

Will chuckled, fingers stretching out around his glass as he gestured to Hannibal. “You're the one who suggested it.” He shrugged, voice laced lightly with a tread of mockery. “I'm fine with a game of chess.”

Hannibal pushed down the need to groan, cursing himself for choosing the offhanded approach. He _needed_ to tell Will the story, if he wanted to break the barriers between them. It was what this evening was all about. He quickly pushed past any reservations as he jiggled the golden liquid in the glass. 

“I do have a particularly eerie story from my own childhood,” he hummed promptly. “From the time I lived in the orphanage.”

Will swallowed the burning Whiskey, and Hannibal watched his throat work with heavy eyes on the bobbing Adam's apple. “Is it scary, or tragic?” the man asked him sceptically, and Hannibal huffed a smile at the bluntness that he'd come to expect from the man. Something that only added, most unexpectedly, to Will's awkward charm.

“A bit of both,” he confessed, and watched Will sink further back into the chair and stretch his legs in front of him, before hooking his ankles.

“Let's hear it.”

Hannibal placed his own glass on the side table, where the screen of his phone suddenly lit with an incoming call. A quick glance was enough for him to know everything was set, and with a push of the button, he accepted the call and slid the device into the pocket of his suit-jacket. 

After a polite evening of friendly nods and smiles, it was now time to soften Will Graham with a little bit... of fear. 

“It is the story of a young boy I befriended in my childhood, who was brutally murdered by a mysterious entity,” he started, watching Will's eyebrow rise over the glass in his hand. “Do you believe in ghosts, Will?”

As expected, the man only cocked his head with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I'm partial to the paranormal,” he answered honestly, but his eyes did shine with intrigue, encouraging Hannibal to continue.

“Very well,” he said, folding his hands on his lap. “You know that I spent my childhood in a Soviet orphanage until well in my teenage years,” he started gently. “The building I was forced to call home was a decommissioned prison, donated to house poor and unfortunate orphans like myself.”

Will inhaled deeply into his glass. “That's not scary,” he spoke, a rueful smile on those pink, whiskey-glossed lips, “that's sad.”

Hannibal corrected his impatience by holding up his hand as he continued. “The building was tall and gray and had once been used to house the most deranged and notorious criminals.” He said, giving his guest a pointed look that spoke of a childish – _See?_

“When I first arrived, the other children informed me it was violently haunted by a man who was once a resident in the asylum; a former child strangler who died in prison by being burned alive by his fellow inmates.”

Their eyes met, and Hannibal held a dramatic pause.

“His name... was Lex Laukaitus.”

With a single flash, all light died around them, and Will straightened in his seat. “Shit.”

Hannibal tried with all his might to hide the pleasure he felt by the perfectly timed execution, as Will looked around the dark room with puzzled eyes. Before Hannibal could offer comfort, however, Will jumped up, and walked over to peer out the nearest window.

“The rest of the street still has power,” he said, confusion rising his voice as his eyes roamed the neighborhood. Hannibal bit his teeth down at the practical streak of his love-interest, and how he had hoped to have found the man cowering in his lap instead.

“It's the wiring of this old house,” he spoke calmly, as he reached for the candles he had placed beside the chair, and put them up on the table. “It happens sometimes.”

“Where's your fuse box?” Will insisted, already turning his head left and right, waiting for instructions as Hannibal patted his seat, beckoning him to return.

“Really, there's no need,” he offered him kindly, biting back his frustration at Will's brusque approach. “I'll light some candles.”

The match struck and caught flame, as three, thick candles lit up, and cast them both in a flickering, warm light. Light that softened the lines, and casted long shadows on the walls.

“Appropriate,” Will hummed defeatedly as he dropped himself into his seat, and Hannibal watched the man reach back for his drink. “So, was it?” he drawled, slouching in his chair. “Haunted?”

Back on track. Good. Hannibal offered a thoughtful side nod, resting his arms on the chair. “At first, there were only the occasional noises at night,” he said. “All the boys slept in a single, large dormitory, and all of us heard them.”

Hannibal wet his lips before picking up his glass and pressing it to his mouth. “Scratching of nails again the walls, the crackling of bones, heavy footsteps and the striking of matches...”

Will didn't speak, but his eyes stayed on Hannibal with an open curiosity.

“Then,” Hannibal continued, eyes shifting on the flickering shadows on the walls, “socks, shoes, even the tableware started to disappear from the drawers and cabinets, and then reappear in odd places.” He uncrossed his legs, placing two steady feet on the Eden Queen carpet. “In the tool shed, the basement, even in the garden, high up in the trees surrounding the grounds.”

Will scoffed, deliciously rude in a way Hannibal would never accept from anyone else, but made him tingle from toes to ears with a relishing need when he witnessed it in the defying beauty of Will Graham.

“A prankster, perhaps?” Will offered, laughter warming his words. “I'm sorry, Hannibal. You don't strike me as the type that would jump to otherworldly conclusions.” His grin was apologetic as well as teasing, and Hannibal received it with an accepting smile. 

“I wasn't then, nor am I now,” he spoke with easy grace as he continued. “Be sure I tried to catch the person I believed to be fooling with us.” Hannibal nodded determinedly as he watched the flames reflect in Will's stormy eyes. “I hid under the bed for hours, and charged towards the odd noises that sprung from behind closed doors and dark corners at night.” 

Hannibal paused to sip his drink. Will was the image of an elfin creature in the fiery light, and Hannibal longed to reach out and cup those scruffy cheeks, taste those Whiskey-glossed lips.

“But I never found the cause.”

Hannibal watched Will shift in his seat, blinking and waiting patiently for Hannibal to continue in the darkness of the hall. Not exactly eager, but certainly intrigued.

“It was when _Derrek_ arrived, the strange occurrences increased,” Hannibal said, teasing his voice to a slightly more ghostly tone. “A small, fragile and shy boy with a pale face, tainted with childhood trauma.” 

He watched Will's back straighten, his fingers curling on the armrest. His empathy and the boy's traits, similar to his own, established a connection as pity and concern grew for the fictional boy's fate. 

Hannibal leaned back in his chair. “Soon after his arrival, Derrek began talking to me and the other boys about a man that came into our dormitory at night, and threatened to strangle him.” 

Their eyes never disconnected as he spoke. “I befriended him,” Hannibal said, and watched Will roll his neck against the high backrest with a lazy smile.

“You were curious,” the man observed. “Then, as you are now.”

Hannibal's abdomen clenched, his thighs pressed together and his fingers curled against the velvet chair-seat.

“Yes.”

A quick blink of his eyes, before Hannibal regrouped by clearing his throat. This was not the time to lose his head... _even more_.

“In truth, none of the others paid much attention to the boy,” he said, “until the evening we came into the dormitory and saw the drawers open and emptied.” His eyes burned on Will's, as he brought his voice down to a drawling, haunting tone. “All of our belongings were scattered across the room,” he said, “with only Derrek present – white as a sheet and stuttering about that very same man that haunted him at night.”

Will huffed as he bit into his bottom lip. His eyes on Hannibal's without a single waver. “Did you believe him?” he asked, worried for a boy he would never meet.

Hannibal sighed theatrically. “I was unsure,” he admitted, all but whispering in the dark. “I did not believe his explanation, but I knew the terror on the boy's face was genuine.” One sip of whiskey stretched the moment. “But none of the other kids did. They beat him, and forced him to clean up the mess by himself.” He watched Will's eyes dance in the light, as his own lips rested on the glass in his hand. “One of the boys even urinated on Derrek's bedsheets.”

Hannibal watched Will's face contort in pitiful disgust, and he congratulated himself on managing to soften his date with compassion and anger. He was vulnerable now, losing his footing, and slowly rising to the appropriate temperature for fear.

“Did you help him?” was Will's expected question, and Hannibal kept their eyes deeply drawn, licking the liquor off his lips. 

Even in fiction, he knew himself well enough to answer with certainty, and bring forth the differences between them that only brightened the spark.

“I didn't help him.”

Will inhaled anger through his crooked, delicate nostrils. The air between them was hot with conflict that curled off their bodies like steam, and Hannibal allowed the moment to last in a heavy stare, before he continued.

“That night, I heard Derrek whimpering in his bed. I heard hollow footsteps on the floorboards, and the heavy breathing of a thick, raspy throat.”

Will only watched as Hannibal placed his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward.

“I didn't try to light the candle. I just listened to the creaking floor, the squeaking breaths, the cracking of bones,” he breathed. “I smelled the scent of burning flesh surrounding me as my eyes glued to the pitch black ceiling. Then, the room was silent.”

The candles flickered, projecting Hannibal's hunched shadow on the walls as Will looked at him, still and breathless. Hannibal deepened his voice as he tilted his chin down, and burned his eyes on the beauty of Will Graham.

“When the sun rose, we found him in his bed. Pale, broken and burned. Eyes bulging, tongue hanging from his open mouth and scorched fingerprints on his broken neck.” 

And as the last words left his lips, Hannibal reached out across the space between them, and touched his fingers to the soft, warm skin of Will's long, exposed neck.

Breath stuttered under his touch, and an open shiver ran beneath his hands as their skin connected. Beneath his fingertips, a rapid heartbeat pumped frantically inside the veins, and the outline of a windpipe pushed more firmly into his hand.

Before him, Will Graham closed his eyes and parted his lips, as his heartbeat raced to rise his temperature, flushing his skin pink.

Will was frightened. Hannibal had succeeded.

“Who strangled him?” Will whispered hoarsely into Hannibal's touch, as he opened his blown eyes and looked at him across the small distance that separated them. Warm, whiskey scented breath caressed Hannibal's face.

Slowly and reluctantly, he released Will's neck and straightened as he took a steadying breath into his lungs. There was another act yet to be performed. 

“No one was ever charged, no suspects identified,” he said, picking up his glass and draining it with one careful gulp. His fingers were unsteady, but he curled them inwards to keep from showing it.

Will worried his lip between his teeth as he huffed air out of his nose. He slumped back in his chair, face still heated, whiskey gone from the glass in his hand. “Is Derrek now haunting you for being a shitty friend?” he challenged, and Hannibal felt an unsteady smile pull on him as he placed his empty glass on the table.

The fire in his eyes was real with passion when he said: “_He's_ not the one haunting me, Will.”

Ocean eyes lifted to him, before the disrupting sound of loud scratches erupted from behind the front door. Sharp nails on wood. The frantic, cruel clawing of an aggressive beast trying to find its way inside. 

Hannibal prayed it wouldn't leave marks on his pristine, polished door. That, or the end should justify the means.

“What the hell?” Ever the savior, Will jumped up before Hannibal even had time to console his date, and marched to the door with determined steps.

Quickly, Hannibal pinched out the burning candles with his bare fingers, housing them in darkness. Smoke curled to the ceiling, as the room began to smell like sulfur.

He watched as Will tried to open the front door. It was locked.

“Do you hear that?” the man asked, turning back to Hannibal and squinting his bewildered eyes. “Why is it so dark in here?”

The scratching noises continued, and Hannibal quickly shook his head as he got up from the chair, pretending confusion while watching Will walk back to him with an outstretched hand.

“Do you have the key?” he spoke disgruntled but calm, his eyes steady and unfazed.

Hannibal's teeth gritted inside his mouth as he reached into his pocket. Hadn't he just felt the fear in this man's pulse? Why did he appear so unaffected now, when he should be clinging to Hannibal's biceps?

The scratching had already stopped when Will finally opened the front door, stepping onto the porch without hesitation to look around the driveway. “There's no one here,” he mumbled, shrugging his strong shoulders. “Maybe it was just a cat.”

Hannibal pushed air into his cheeks, forcing himself to stop from shouting: _A cat? A CAT? If that was a cat, it directly ascended from the depths of hell!_

But in that very same instant, heavy footsteps could suddenly be heard upstairs, pounding away on the first floor with what appeared to be a large set of manly boots.

This time, Will's gaze shot up to the ceiling with something that resembled distress. “There's someone upstairs.”

Hannibal took his chance, pushing himself in front of Will as if to shield him, front to back, before grabbing hold of Will's arm and hurrying them to the staircase. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, feigning alarm with stern authority. This was his chance to be a protector. To keep Will safe, and offer him support, comfort. Establishing trust, and a deeper connection. 

But Will only followed closely behind, allowing himself to be dragged along as he grumbled a rebellious: “Like hell I will...”

When they crashed into Hannibal's bedroom, the sight was one that made even Hannibal's insides clench in disturbance. And _he_ had been the one to arrange this.

In the darkness, they could still make out the sheets hanging from the closet, drawers opened, and socks and underwear scattered over the floor. It was like a hurricane had smashed through the place, and beside him, Hannibal heard Will take in a deep breath of shock.

“There's been a break-in,” he said with breathless conviction. “We should call the police and search the house.”

Hannibal watched with widening eyes as Will reached into his pocket for his cellphone, suddenly realizing he was lucky the man had not brought his service gun. Before he could think of a way to stop the man from dialing an emergency center, however, the door of the bedroom slammed shut behind them, and Will's jolt of surprise made him drop his phone on the littered floor. 

Behind the door rose a noise that sounded suspiciously like that of rattling bones – the cracking of a spine, the striking of a match.

“Will,” Hannibal called with urgency and a pinch of well-acted disturbance, as he moved to stand behind the slightly shorter man, and distract him from diving after his cellphone. “It's not a break-in.” His hands slid over Will's tense upper arms, feeling the tremor in the muscles as he maintained his hold on him. 

Will's breathing deepened as he leaned into Hannibal's touch. “It's what happened in your story,” he whispered, lashes fluttering as the back of his head pressed against Hannibal's shoulder, who felt his own skin break out in goosebumps at the contact. Will's heart was thudding so beautifully fast again. He was frightened, and Hannibal would be the one to protect him.

“That was no story, Will,” he breathed heavily against the man's ear, as more noise disrupted from the other side of the door.

Thumping on the walls, stomping on the floor, scratching on the door.....

“Derrek died.”

And he had. Little Derrek _had_ died after he'd urinated on Hannibal's bedsheets. A childish prank they performed on newcomers. The next morning, Derrek had been found strangled in his bed. The perpetrator had never been found, but not a single boy had touched Hannibal's stuff since that day.

Will gasped when sharp nails scratched frantically at the door, and Hannibal tightened his arms around him. Just a little more, before he would demand the evil spirit return from whence it came, and the light would be restored. Will would feel relieved, look at him with those grateful, doughy blue eyes, and pull him into a tight embrace.

They would talk about the experience, share their vulnerabilities and perhaps even share a laugh from the released tension. Hannibal would move in for a goodnight kiss, and with a bit of luck, it would be the first in line of many more.

That's how Hannibal had planned this evening.

Until Zeller and Price, perhaps unsurprisingly, took it too far.

“Will Grahaaam.”

Hannibal silently cursed them with a thousand gruesome deaths when voices from behind the wall started screeching.

“Wiiihiiill Grahammmm.” - could be heard from outside the room, sing-songing Will's name and attempting to make it sound ghostly.“Wihhhill Grahaaaaaham.”

Hannibal's hands froze on Will's arms, and he felt his date go rigid under his touch as the whispered voices continued to call to him: croaking his name like a Walt Disney witch.

Hannibal's teeth clenched, as he suppressed the urge to press a palm to his forehead. Notwithstanding the urge to press his palm to two other foreheads instead.

“Hannibal?” Will muttered quietly as he turned to him with widened eyes, before pulling his arms around the other man's waist. His back was shaking when Hannibal reached to hold him

“W-What is happening?”

Will's shoulders quivered and his face buried in Hannibal's chest, as the haunting voices kept chanting his name through the door: “Wihiiiillllll. Wiilll Grahaaammmm.”

Hannibal's stomach fluttered, and he held his breath tight at the unexpected nearness. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent and feeling the heat of Will's beautiful flesh seep through his clothing with trembling thighs.

This? This was what it took to get the man in his arms? He was grateful, immensely grateful, but...

This?

“Oh God,” Will moaned, pressing himself closer to Hannibal as he clawed at the taller man's chest in sheer panic. Hannibal swallowed hard en thick at the contact, almost buckling when a nail grazed his stiff nipple beneath his shirt. Inside his slacks, his cock started to stir against the pressure of Will's hips.

Lord.

The noise continued to erupt beyond the wall, moving back and forth along the hall on the other side. Price and Zeller were likely running up and down the corridor, shouting Will's name and rattling bones, giggling like a bunch of schoolboys. Hannibal would call this whole setup a mistake...

If it hadn't seemed to be working so perfectly. 

“Please, Hannibal.” Will was in his arms, rubbing his face into Hannibal's sternum, gripping his sides with needy hands and pressing their bodies close as Hannibal's cock pressed stiffly in his underwear.

“Wiilllllll. Willlyyyyyyy.”

This was getting out of hand quite quickly. Hannibal had wanted Will to open his eyes to the possibility of a romantic, physical relationship. He didn't want Will to throw himself at him in sheer panic, feel his erection probe into his belly and make a run for it.

But Will didn't stop. “Hannibal...” he practically sobbed into his neck, as Hannibal stood frozen in place with his hands on Will's back. Unsure of what was happening anymore, and what the next move should be.

He didn't want it to stop, but he didn't want to frighten Will off either.

He could only try to force down a moan when Will pushed their hips together, shooting hot sparks of pleasure up the line of his hard cock. 

He failed.

In an instant, Will stilled his moaning, his writhing, and lifted his head from Hannibal's chest as he moved to look up at him; pupils wide, cheeks flushed, heartbeat wild beneath his ribs. Breathtaking.

Silent.

Lord, oh Lord.

Hannibal froze as panic lurched through his system with a physical jolt. His fingers only contracted on Will's back as he looked down into those ocean eyes that had ruined him for mankind and beyond.

He was shocked to find that below that sweetly scrunched up nose, a mischievous smile played on Will's pink lips. The sight of it left Hannibal utterly... speechless.

“Come on now,” Will said through pursed lips, pressing his hips forward to brush his leg against Hannibal's obvious erection. “Are we just going to pretend _that_ isn't there?”

Hannibal gasped his surprise, hips stuttering helplessly at the contact as he struggled to wrap his mind around the scene. “I...”

He knew he was bright red as blood pumped up to fill his cheeks and ears with a warm glow. It was a sensation he had not been familiar with; until meeting Will Graham. 

But despite the accusation and the teasing smile, Will remained in his arms, equally flushed red, as he said: “I'm doing a great job humoring you this evening, Hannibal, but how much further were you going to take this before you kiss me?”  
The apologetic, guilty eyes sparkled almost shyly as he blinked up at Hannibal, who suddenly felt his blood heat up to boiling point beneath his skin.

Kiss?

Oh.

OH.

Hannibal's eyes widened, and the tip of his ears burned flaming hot at the words that sliced right through his abdomen with merciless desire. “W-Will...” he stuttered as he swallowed the saliva that gathered in his mouth.

_Will had known. Will had known all along._

When the man in his arms pulled away, Hannibal had to force himself not to grasp him.

“I'm going downstairs to turn the light back on,” Will said, eyes bright and soft, hair slightly disheveled, “and when I come back, you can explain what your angle is here.” He gestured a circling finger around the trashed bedroom, giving him a pointed look through the blush that Hannibal longed to taste with his tongue.

The door was unlocked, and Hannibal watched him go.

Sinking on the bed, he pushed the mess of socks and towels off the mattress and placed his head in his trembling hands. Breathing in and out as deeply as his lungs allowed.

Will had seen through his stupid plan, and had played along this entire time. But as embarrassing as the situation was, Will _had_ pressed himself against him... had mentioned a kiss.

Was Will Graham mocking him? Or was Hannibal brave enough to feel encouragement from the one person he wanted more than the air in his lungs? The only one he had ever wanted for himself, entirely, and give himself to in return. 

All of himself.

Hannibal grunted low into his hands. This was madness. Will Graham made him feel and behave like an absolute fool. So much so, he had accepted the help of his idiotic colleagues to seduce him into his arms. A low moan escaped Hannibal's throat as he pressed his palms to his eyes, and cursed himself for allowing to become so... human.

“Beverly says 'hi',” Will spoke softly as he entered the room, and Hannibal quickly pulled his hands from his eyes to see the electricity had been restored. Warm light shone into the hallway through the open door, but only lit from under the threshold when Will closed it gently behind himself.

With a flick of the switch, the lamp on Hannibal's nightstand bathed the room in a modest, intimate glow, before Will sank down on the foot of the bed beside him.

“I just saw Jimmy and Brian running across your lawn like a bunch of giggling idiots,” he commented dryly as he fumbled with the expensive sheets on the mattress.

For the first time in his life, Hannibal wished he wasn't wearing a tie. The silk fabric felt prominent and tight against his thumping artery and bobbing Adam's apple. 

“When did you realize?” he asked timidly, dragging his nails along the fabric of his slacks as he rose his head to meet the man's eyes in the semi-darkness of the bedroom. Will was beautiful in golden light. His curls were coming undone from the gel's hold, and his eyes were vulnerable, open and slightly unsteady.

Will looked nervous, and Hannibal suppressed the urge to flinch at the sight. Perhaps this whole evening had only succeeded to make Will uncomfortable, and would lead to the man only closing himself off instead of opening up to him. How was it that he was usually so good with manipulating the world to fit into his hands, but with Will, he was like a man trying to carry water in them?

He had been a fool.

Will chuckled, hands clasped between his parted knees as he offered Hannibal an amused shrug.  
“That you were up to something?” he asked, gently mocking him. “Where to start?” His smile stretched wide as his eyes shifted down. “Not counting the screeching noises of Price and Zeller, it started with the connected phone to Beverly, the lights, the marks on your fingers when you pinched out the candles...”

Will snickered and Hannibal cursed himself a thousand times over as he looked at his thumb and index finger. There were scorched patches on his flesh, and even a drop of dried wax. 

How could he have underestimated Will, a man whose mind and eyes were trained for details?

Hannibal sighed as he shamefully shook his head. What had Will reduced him to?

He was a fool in love. 

“But I felt your heartbeat,” Hannibal breathed softly, remembering those fingers on Will's warm throat. “It was elated.” Their eyes met, heady and round as they sat side by side on the foot of the bed. So close, their breath mingled in the distance between. 

“You were frightened.”

Will's pupils dilated, and Hannibal had to stop himself from falling forward into the black pools he so desired. 

“You had your hands on me,” Will confessed quietly, eyes full on the puzzled doctor. “I wasn't frightened, Hannibal.”

The last line was accompanied by a soft smile, a self-conscious roll of eyes. Then, hips shifted a little closer in, and Will reached for Hannibal's hand with his. Taking fingers, and placing them over the racing heart in Will's covered chest.

“Feel this?” Will dared him. “I must still be... so very frightened.”

A breathless smile huffed across the man's sweet, delicate face, and Hannibal couldn't help but follow him as a sudden rush of relief took him _hard_. 

Will wasn't scared. Will was affected. Will was affected by _him_.

God almighty, how stupid he had been. A doctor. He was a doctor, for Christ's sake. Hannibal could cry out his relief and jubilant joy as Will took the hand off his chest, and linked their fingers together as he brought their hands down to the mattress between them. 

“I was hoping this date was about us getting to know each other better, and resolving this ongoing, _maddening_ tension between us.”

Will's voice cracked with underlying frustration as he spoke the words, squeezing Hannibal's hand tighter with his. “But if you only wanted to scare me into your bed for a one night stand...”

Anxiety burst from Hannibal's tense abdomen as he jumped up, detangling their fingers, and straightened himself with passionate conviction. Never in a million years...

“Absolutely not,” he all but yelled out the scoff. No matter how ridiculous he had behaved tonight, Will was never allowed to believe that he would defile him within his thoughts or regards. Will Graham was not a midnight snack. Will Graham was the everlasting golden ring he wanted on his finger.

But expressing his feelings in such a manner, Doctor Du Maurier had informed him, would be considered as _coming on too strong_. Instead, he told him: “I want so much more.”

He offered back his hand, and watched Will rise to his feet to take it. Ocean eyes were alive with surprise and as he closed the distance between them, Hannibal felt himself weakened with love. “I was hoping for this preposterous plan to lower your guards, and give us the opportunity to start a journey of exploration and affection far beyond tonight,” he uttered, and watched Will stare up at him with parted lips and widened eyes.

“Forgive me my horrible, adolescent ways. You deserve so much more,” Hannibal whispered, guilt and shame evident in his voice as he squeezed their hands between them. “I blame them on your colleagues, and my own _hormone addled_ brain.”

Their eyes met heady yet hard, before Will laughed. Mirth, blushing cheeks and eyes that met him with warmth before shifting down, brushing back up, halting on Hannibal's lips, and up again.

“I forgive you,” Will hummed, and he crinkled his nose in pleasure when Hannibal bent closer, touching their foreheads together. “Because how could I blame you when I'm suffering from the same affliction?”

Words were a breathless whisper that Hannibal felt brushing against his lips, as his chest swelled with the beautiful confession. A low whine escaped him with a power that shook his diaphragm with jubilation, adoration and need. 

“Will,” Hannibal breathed against the panting mouth as his hands came to frame Will's face. “I have never longed for another like I long for you, every single day,” he rasped, before dipping his head and capturing those sweet, soft lips with his own. 

Bedelia surely would have frowned at his eager confession, but Will only gasped pleasure into the touch of their searching mouths.

At last, a kiss. At last, the contact Hannibal had been craving like a starving man, ever since that first day in Crawford's office. And it was cruel in the way it weakened him.

The slide of their lips was soft like silk, careful and warm. Their lips pressed gently together, relaxed, and pressed together again without any tension behind their slack muscles. There was just the collision of skin, open and wonderful and whole, yet breakable like fine China.

Before Hannibal could coax open that beautiful mouth with a careful probe of his tongue, Will pulled back from his kiss with a tilt from his head. The loss was instant, and Will's ears shone bright red in the lamplight as he lowered his gleaming eyes to the floor.

“I-I'm sorry,” he sighed inside a chuckle, allowing Hannibal's quivering fingers to tilt his chin back up, gauging his discomfort. Vulnerability was raw and naked in Will's eyes in a way Hannibal had never witnessed it in him before, and it struck him like a diamond sword through the chest. Beautiful, valuable pain.

No walls could be detected in Will's ocean eyes, and the sight was magnificent. So many insecurities, yet so much warmth within the depths.

Perhaps Will was frightened after all. This time, the thought chilled Hannibal to the bone.

“I want this, I do,” Will confessed, “but I am...”

He rested his head in Hannibal's hands as he closed his eyes, and a hot sigh of breath stroked against Hannibal's fingers before the man finished his thoughts with a fragile tremble in his voice.

“I've never had a man, or anyone else for that matter, I truly cared about in my life... in my bed. I'm quite new to this, Hannibal.”

Their noses brushed when Hannibal leaned in, and their eyes stared into each other far beyond the black of pupils. Will bit his lip as he nuzzled the palms of Hannibal's hands.

“I _am_ scared,” he said, scoffing laughter at the irony. “A different _kind_ of scared.” Will's eyes briefly flashed up at the ceiling as a wet grin spread helplessly on his burning face. 

Hannibal's lips twisted up at the heartbreaking beauty as his thumbs stroked over stubbled cheeks.  
“What scares you?” he asked, his voice unsteady in his throat. Frightened for the answer.

“Feelings,” Will said, clumsily shaking his head as his eyes sparkled damp in the weak light. “Relationships. Sex.” He nuzzled further into Hannibal's touch, and groaned openly at his own words. “I don't do much of... any of it.”

Will stretched his neck, placing one sweet kiss to Hannibal's lips before he spoke against the corner of his mouth. “It never means anything to me...” 

A long sigh heated Hannibal's lips before Will's hand tightened in his shirt. “I can't do that with you, Hannibal,” he croaked. “With you, it will mean something.”

The words made Hannibal shiver openly against Will's chest. His pristine veil of _perfect human_ was crumbling before this angel. And he allowed it, painlessly so.

“If you'd ask me for the world, I'd still happily give you more, Will,” he breathed with vulnerable certainty, as his hands traveled back down to Will's throat. “Tell me what you need.” 

Will's windpipe bobbed beneath his touch, and where Hannibal usually felt the urge to crush, this man only made him want to stroke, protect, possess. 

“I don't want to be a game,” Will said, determination a fiery breath, as his lips hovered near Hannibal's, who allowed the passion to fuel the roar of arousal within him. 

“You're not a game,” Hannibal hissed, feeling the brush of their lips as he spoke. “You're the jackpot. The main prize.”

Will released an embarrassed whine and teasingly pulled back when Hannibal tried to catch him in a kiss, his hands tightening on Hannibal's sleeves. “Hannibal...”

But he didn't allow Will to slip from their embrace as he pressed his lips against the younger man's temple. “You're afraid of getting hurt. Of being abandoned,” he breathed hotly against Will's ear, who in turn pressed his nose against Hannibal's throat.

“Psychiatrist,” Will cursed warmly against his skin, as his arms folded around Hannibal's torso with a firm, possessive grip. Hannibal chuckled into the curls that tickled his nose.

“You're the only thing worthy in this entire mortal coil,” he admitted with an ease he had never expected to find within himself. “I'll abandon life before I'll abandon you.”

Again, Bedelia would not approve of this for _first date conversation_. But they were not like other people, he and Will. They were different from others, as they were just alike.

Will pulled back with those hooded eyes swimming, and those plush lips searching his. “Please,” he begged, bottom lip trembling. Lost and needy, his fingers pawed against Hannibal's shoulders.

“Anything you want, Will,” Hannibal assured him with a tremor in his deep voice, and meant every word. “It's yours.”

Their lips touched again, closed but firm as they inhaled sharp breaths through their nostrils. A shy tongue licked along the rim of Hannibal's mouth.

“Do you want the polite answer?” Will panted, his curls now in disarray on his damp forehead. Another kiss fell to Hannibal's mouth, and another. Will breathed between open presses of their lips, as Hannibal smiled into their kisses, curling his hands around Will's waist. 

“No,” he encouraged, his body already tightening with hot want as his cock brushed against Will's wriggling thighs.

The man's nose pushed against his earlobe, his heavy breathing hot against Hannibal's damp skin as he whispered rasped words from his throat: “Fuck me.”

Teeth grazed Hannibal's ear shell as his knees buckled, his heavy erection jumping in his slacks, and his hands pulled at Will's sides to press them closer. “_God_, Will.”

Hannibal did not make it a habit to call upon his Creator in awe or need, but Will, Will brought out a side of him he would previously have considered a weakness. Now, that weakness was glorious, worthy of making him human.

Even the Gods had lost to love.

Their mouths sealed again, and this time Will opened up to allow their tongues to slide together, tasting inside their mouths and tracing the sharp rows of teeth. Whiskey and winter.

Will moaned in desperation, sagging to his knees as Hannibal held him up in his arms and guided them further on the bed. Will's hard cock was pushing up the fabric of his black slacks, and the sight was wildly enticing.

“What was the polite version?” Hannibal panted, as they both settled on their sides, legs entangled and chests heaving between quick or deep passionate kisses. 

Will laughed against his lips as his hands traveled down to cup Hannibal's ass through his trousers. “Make love to me, stupid man,” he grunted, pushing his nails into the flesh of Hannibal's backside and moaning when Hannibal's teeth punishingly grazed his collarbone.

“That's hardly polite,” Hannibal groaned as he slotted their hips and pressed the lines of their erections together in a hot, hard slide beneath the fabric of their clothing.

“Like it was _hardly_ polite how you've been eying my body like a starving wolf for the past few weeks?” Will bit back, his fingers tugging off Hannibal's tie and fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

“Much longer,” Hannibal easily corrected him, pulling playfully on Will's lips with his teeth as he all but ripped the shirt off Will's chest with his impatient hands. Wanting to touch and feel and taste what he'd been dreaming of every single night since he'd known of Will's existence.

Will's shirt was shedded, as were his slacks, before Hannibal rolled him on his back to look down upon the length of his body, speechless with adoration and need. Will was divine. Long lines, strong muscles, sparse, curled hair and soft, pure skin. He was an angelic creature in every way but his mind.

Will whined like a tortured animal, impatient and needy as he shimmied his hips inside his underwear and toed off his socks. He clawed at Hannibal with blunt nails, pushing him down and rutting his hips up in search for friction as he plundered Hannibal's mouth with greedy lips and tongue. 

Hannibal had wondered, now and many times before, if what his lover would need from him the very first time they would consummate their passion in the flesh, was slow and endless worship. Hours upon hours of careful exploration. He had told himself to cautiously avoid pushing things along with his own maddening desire to have Will, then and there, and respect Will's wishes to take things slow. 

But he was wrong.

Will was equally swallowed by desperation, and it was clear as day he _too_ needed their bond to be sealed before it could be languidly explored. 

“Oh, Will.”

Will's underwear came down, as did the white sports socks off his pink, pretty toes. Just like those toes, his beautiful cock was flushed pink – hard and angled up from his belly as the head shone pearly white in the low lighting. An angel, a devil's siren, Will was perfection.

Hard and slick, heavy and sensitive to the barest touch of naked air.

“Fuck,” Will squirmed when Hannibal shedded his own clothes before covering Will's body with his as he slid between the man's parted legs. Their heartbeats thumped loudly as they pressed against each other, and Will kissed him with frantic, desperate need as he pushed his body up to meet Hannibal's in a wet slide of skin.

“Fuck, you're hot,” Will all but sobbed against his chest, making Hannibal's cock stir and his heart sing as the younger man's eyes dripped over him with a feral spark of arousal. Hannibal was bigger, hairier, stronger, and this seemed to drive Will wild with approval as he hooked his legs around Hannibal's waist and allowed his fingers to grasp wherever he could reach him. 

“I've been longing to touch you,” Will confessed with a broken moan, roaming his hands everywhere at once with such vigor, it was as if he feared Hannibal would suddenly just go up in smoke. “And I've been dreaming to taste you.”

Hannibal groaned his approval, peppering kisses along the line of Will's neck as he pushed their hard cocks together between their thighs. “You can taste,” he rumbled teasingly, as Will's fingers tightened on the back of his legs.

“Good.” Suddenly, hands started pushing the back of Hannibal's thighs with impatience, until he was forced to sit up on his knees above Will's stretched out form. “Get up here,” Will urged, hands still pressing against his skin as he looked down into the man's gleaming eyes. 

“What do you mean?” Hannibal said, confusion shaking his head as he looked down his own jutting cock, and Will's pink tongue sliding out over his lips as he looked at him.

“Come here,” the man ordered him, “I want that taste.” And Will was pushing at thighs again before Hannibal understood what it was his love wanted. “_Will_.”

Will wanted to be straddled by him; on his shoulders, rather than his hips, so Hannibal could push into his mouth and take his pleasure, allowing Will a taste. The sight of his own hard, red cock near Will's open lips was enough to make him groan in complete, maddening surrender.

“Oh Will.”

Hannibal gasped when his lover opened his mouth and lifted his neck to take the head of his cock between his lips. Tight heat enveloped him as a sweet tongue lapped at the leaking slit, and Hannibal had to grip the pillow to keep himself from buckling forward. _“Oh.”_ His breath stuttered violently when Will looked up at him through lashes, his cock tight inside his warm mouth.

“Beautiful boy,” Hannibal praised as that gentle tongue licked the underside of his cock and a moan spilled from Will's throat along the shaft. He watched Hannibal through hooded, satisfied eyes as he suckled on him, and allowed his fingers to palm the underside of Hannibal's heavy balls. 

Will wanted this. He had longed for this, too, and the thought made Hannibal helpless against pushing in that little further. The hums of pleasure in the back of Will's throat vibrated against Hannibal's skin, tickling pleasure along his shaft and up his belly, and making him pant heavily through his nose.

He watched with delirium how his thick, glossy shaft pushed in between those bright red lips as they tightened and sucked on his engorged, pulsing flesh. Strings of spit stuck to the corner of Will's mouth, as saliva trickled down over Will's chin. 

“Ah.”

Hannibal's insides felt weak with the worship he wanted to lay on this marvelous man and he wheezed when Will lapped at him, dripped on him, tightened his mouth and slurped around him with such thirst and desire it could very well make him fall apart.

“Will,” he whined, pulling his hips back and watching his thick, wet cock fall from Will's glistening, pouting red lips. “I can't take much more.”

His confession made Will's big eyes flash up as he smiled with unsuppressed pride, and arched his neck when Hannibal lowered himself to offer a kiss. “Am I that good, old man?” he croaked teasingly, speaking words with truth beyond his own understanding as Hannibal slid back between his lover's knees. 

“Yes,” Hannibal breathed easily into the kiss. “Far beyond a man with as 'little experience' as you claim.”

Will laughed again, his skin flushing with the compliment as he nipped at Hannibal's mouth with hungry lips. “This is the first time I'm inspired by true desire,” he confessed sweet and fragilely, making Hannibal weak with adoration for the boy in his arms as he pushed their cocks together again and rubbed the hard flesh and soft skin teasingly slow.

“Just get me ready for you,” Will moaned through the rhythm of their hips. “I want you inside me.” His hands smoothed through Hannibal's hair as he pulled him up to connect their eyes. “But be gentle,” he urged him, sweet depths in those ocean eyes as he pecked him on the lips. “You're big.”

Hannibal blinked, a stunned smile coloring his face.

_Gentle. _

Hannibal had always been a cautious lover. Appropriate, patient, and quite often bored. Never gentle. But this time he would be gentle, passionate, giving and loving and it wouldn't cost him anything of who he was. This time, all he wanted was to please, and this time, it would please him in return.

“Anything,” Hannibal kissed his worries away before he sank down to leave a trail of sweet kisses along Will's perfect body. His throat, his sternum, his nipples and his ribs. His belly, the curve of his hips and the trail of pubic hair that tickled his nose with the scent of his sex.

The pink, twitching cock found its way past his lips, and the taste of Will on his tongue was one he would never, ever want to forget. Hopefully, he could now have himself a daily reminder of the sweet, salty taste and the scent of sweat, skin and beautiful autumn skies. 

Will moaned wantonly, his hands pulling his lover's hair as Hannibal's fingers explored lower, smoothing over Will's balls and finding the tight, pink pucker of his clenching hole. “Perfect, Will.” He uttered with awe.

“Y-yes,” Will encouraged him brokenly, as Hannibal sucked the hard, blushing shaft further into his mouth and felt the creamy thighs tremble in response. One finger circled the fluttering hole, hot and tight under his touch as he stroked the ring with loving patience.

_Lubricant_. Hannibal lifted his head off a protesting Will, quickly pawing at the drawer of his nightstand and finding it completely emptied. 

_Damn it, that stupid ghost prank._

“Hannibal,” Will whined, and Hannibal squeezed his lover's thigh reassuringly as he peeked over the rim of the bed. Nothing. 

_Where did they put it?_

His eyes scanned the dark floor, where clothes, sheets and towels piled together, creating too big a mess to...

“Are you looking for this?” 

When he lifted his head to look back at Will, he fought the urge to both grit his teeth and chuckle openly at the image. Will was holding a tube of high-class lubricant that he seemed to have pulled from under his pillow. Attached to it was a single post-it with a written message in big, bold letters:

_Congratulations, guys! - Team Science_

The text was accompanied by drawings of a purple eggplant, a pink and orange peach and some blue, wet water drops – a message that Hannibal didn't quite understand, but he was grateful enough to have the lubricant and took the tube from Will who eyed the message with screwed brows.

“What does this...?” he started, as Hannibal shook his head and he squirted a wet blob onto his fingers before rubbing them together.

“We can ask later,” he said, before diving back between Will's parted legs and feeling most satisfied by the sight of Will's still thriving erection, begging for his attention.

“Yes, yes,” Will agreed greedily, panting hard as Hannibal circled his opening with a single, slick finger before pushing inside the tight heat of his body. Hannibal knew Will hadn't had much experience with penetration, and he wanted nothing more than to show Will what his medical education had taught him about the wonders of the male anatomy.

“Ahhhh, fuck,” Will hissed surprise, and Hannibal knew he had found his prostate almost instantly. He rubbed teasingly against the needy nub, as he opened him up, stretching and caressing. 

Will was tight, hot and eager, and Hannibal was mesmerized by the way his cock twitched, his hips swayed, his body clenched and his lashes fluttered. He pushed back, demanding more, and it was heavenly bliss to see him come undone so beautifully, so easily, under Hannibal's care.

For the first time in his life, Hannibal's mind was still. For the first time in his existence, he didn't have a plan for now, for tomorrow, or next week.

He just wanted to be Will's.

Hannibal pushed in a second slick finger, and Will rocked his hips, welcoming him as he arched into the touch Hannibal offered on his cock. He allowed Will to fuck up into his fist as he fingered deep into the silk slide of his tight ass. 

The wet sound of his working fingers and Will's ragged moans filled the room like a symphony. A third finger slid inside as Hannibal's hand pumped Will's cock with a loose grip, feeling his lover's body ease and pulse around him.

“Come up here,” Will cried, writhing on the mattress when Hannibal pulled his fingers from his body and crawled them up his lover's body; knocking the wind out of him with a wet, open kiss to his panting mouth.

“I'm ready,” Will groaned beautifully lost and aroused as he rocked up against Hannibal's belly, and folded his legs over his lover's hips. “Fuck me.”

And despite never having been taken, Hannibal could see Will was made for this. With him, and him alone. He was so willing, so needful and pink.

He added lube to his own cock, so hard it was almost painful to keep control, as he laid out Will on the bed and positioned himself between the angel's legs that spread like they remembered him there. They would, from here on out.

“I'll make love to you, _you stupid man_,” Hannibal purred Will's own words back at him as he mouthed at the length of Will's stretched neck, and pushed the head of his leaking cock against the wet entrance.

“Good,” Will encouraged him with a wet smile through the desperate tears in his eyes. And Hannibal kissed between those eyes, down his nose, capturing those lips as he pushed inside with a slow drag that had Will arching in his arms.

“Fuck, fuck.”

It was so tight he could barely breathe, and Will's body jerked around the intrusion before he allowed himself to relax. But when he bottomed out, Hannibal was not allowed to try and piece himself back together. Will spurred him on, demanding him to move and distract him from the burn by finding that special spot inside.

Hannibal panted hot and abandoned against Will's neck as sounds rumbled breathlessly from his tongue. Will was surrendering in his arms, throwing back his head and arching up into Hannibal's body as he pushed back with every stroke, and welcomed him for more. It was a dance; one they had always been dancing in their minds. It was easy completion. 

Hannibal thrust into Will as the man clung to his front. Mewling and clawing at him with everything he had as Hannibal went near cross-eyed from the heat, the tight squeeze and slide, the soft skin and the hungry mouth on his.

“Turn me. Spoon me,” Will suddenly ordered feverishly, as his feet and hands pushed the other man back. Hannibal pulled out instantly, watched Will roll to his side and crawled behind him, pressing his front to Will's back. They sighed relief when he pushed back into Will's body, and folded his arms over his lover's chest. His heartbeat was under his palm, and the back of Will's head on his shoulder.

“I want to remember this when I'm alone in my bed,” Will panted against his ear. “I want to close my eyes and feel you there.”

Hannibal was lost in the velvet squeeze of Will's body as he grunted his reply: “You don't have to remember if you stay,” he said, eyes closed and mouth against Will's salty skin. The man pushed back on him, taking him deep and pressing him close as they moved together on the bed. 

Will needn't be in his bed by himself ever again. Hannibal wanted him here, always.

His hand found Will's cock as they moaned and grinded and uttered silly words made from lovesick, sex-drunk pleasure. _“So good, so beautiful, never this right”_, and he pumped the hard flesh, palmed the tight balls, touched his sweet, magnificent Will as he pushed into him to hear the man wail and whimper. His prostate was swollen, rubbing against his cock, and Will's toes were curled against Hannibal's shins as his body thrashed on the mattress. 

“So close. Don't stop,” Will sobbed, as Hannibal brought one hand to grasp the man's hip. Fucking him harder, deeper, as his hand sped up on the leaking flesh. 

“Ohhhhh,” Will's release was hard, lasting, raw and wet as seed spilled over Hannibal's hand, and his body pulsed and clenched and spasmed around him in the circle of Hannibal's arms. His cries were stiffened with the powerful jerks of his hips as Will leaked and leaked and leaked down his own abdomen, his own thighs, while Hannibal fucked him through his orgasm with the same vicious pace. 

It was a dream, a vision of pure ecstasy. Hannibal was stunned by the sight and the feel of Will's ongoing release that pulled at his erection, thighs and belly as the man continued to leak fluid from the tip of his cock. 

“Ohhhh God,” Will managed to breathe out after moments of blind pleasure, shaking him, and squeezing Hannibal's cock raw. He rolled unto his belly, careful to keep Hannibal inside as he spread his legs and allowed Hannibal to cover his back.

“Like this,” he croaked, spent and euphoric. “Take me like this.”

And he did. Hannibal pushed in hard, fast, as his teeth pressed against Will’s bare neck. He knew Will wanted to be overpowered by him in this very moment, and he shuddered deep with the knowledge as he took the only person he'd ever wanted, offering himself up to him with absolute delight.

Maybe he had pleased God after all. The Devil, more likely. Or perhaps he had finally become a higher creature himself. Either way, he must have stirred something mighty to have found himself in such paradise.

He clung to Will, arms locked through Will's pits and over his shoulder as he fucked him with his head sideways into the sheets. Hannibal's mouth nipped at the skin as he watched Will's open lips and closed eyes, gasping with every thrust and with hips pushing up to meet him.

It was animal.

“That's it,” Will encouraged him when Hannibal's pants turned into whines. “Come inside me.”

He did. It only took those words for Hannibal to fall deep inside himself with a silent scream, and shoot Will's body full of his release. A claim he'd so dreamed of making. The pleasure carried like the clanging of holy bells inside his mind, as he tightened his grip on Will and stuttered against him with writhing hips.

This was a taste of heaven.

Will groaned as he pushed back, rolling onto his side until their bodies disconnected with a slick slip of skin. They both mourned the loss with a groan as Will settled on his stomach. Thighs spread, hands under his head, curls wild and eyes burning bright.

Hannibal settled on his side, as one hand stroked the messy hair and bare skin of his date. His lover. His man.

Everything was warm and right as they breathed out their heavy heartbeats and settled into a gentle afterglow.

“Holy shit,” was the first thing from a dazed Will's lips, and Hannibal chuckled as his hand followed the curve of Will's spine - “This is not how I pictured our first time.”

_Oh._

Hannibal's hand stopped, his hesitation clear as Will flashed him a teasing smile.

“Come on,” he laughed, blissfully exhausted, “the whole ghost story trick is absolutely a tale for the grandchildren.”

Hannibal joined the laughter, hand back on Will's lovely skin as a warm feeling bloomed within his chest. _The grandchildren_. “Maybe with some editing,” he said, lightly fisting at Will's hair as their eyes connected with sparking lights. “But I like the way you think.”

Will's smile widened to a grin, and Hannibal watched his cheeks heating as his eyes settled on the ceiling. “This was how I had hoped this evening would end,” he spoke with a sincerity that pulled at Hannibal's chest. “I know how I'll be celebrating Halloween next year.”

Will sighed contently as he turned onto his side, ushering Hannibal to pull in behind him again. Their bodies slotted perfectly, as Hannibal threw the covers over them.

“And every day before it,” Will yawned his words in the dark. Hannibal smiled against his naked back, as Will placed his hand over Hannibal's on his stomach. “And after.”

“Move in with me?” Hannibal couldn't stop from blurting out as a thick blanket of love weighed on him with such heavy happiness.

There was a silence in the room that caged him, until Will lifted his hand, and pressed a kiss to his fingers.

“Do you accept dogs in the house?” he asked, and Hannibal laughed wholeheartedly, feeling like he could float, within their perfect embrace.

“Ghosts, dogs, whatever you want,” he hummed happily in the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fills me with seasonal joy! ^.^ I wish you all a VERY HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! 
> 
> https://twitter.com/KatherineKrawl


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